Anne Bronte

Love, indeed thy strength is
Thus, alone, such strife to bear —Three 'gainst one, and never ceasing —Death, and Madness, and Despair! 'Tis not my own strength has saved me;
Health, and hope, and fortitude,
But for love, had long…

Though not a breath can enter here,
I know the wind blows fresh and free;
I know the sun is shining clear,
Though not a gleam can visit me.

Call me away; there's nothing here,
That wins my soul to stay;
Then let me leave this prospect drear,
And hasten far away.

I mourn with thee, and yet
That thou shouldst sorrow so;
With angel choirs I join my
To bless the sinner's woe.

Though bleak these woods, and damp the ground,
With fallen leaves so thickly strewn,
And cold the wind that wanders
With wild and melancholy moan;

My soul is awakened, my spirit is soaring And carried aloft on the wings of the breeze;
For above and around me the wild wind is roaring,
Arousing to rapture the earth and the seas.
The long withered grass in the sunshine is glancing

I'll rest me in this sheltered bower,
And look upon the clear blue
That smiles upon me through the trees,
Which stand so thickly clustering by;

Ellen, you were thoughtless
Of beauty or of grace,
Simple and homely in attire,
Careless of form and face;

Farewell to thee! but not
To all my fondest thoughts of thee:
Within my heart they still shall dwell;
And they shall cheer and comfort me.

Brightly the sun of summer shone,
Green fields and waving woods upon,  And soft winds wandered by;
Above, a sky of purest blue,
Around, bright flowers of loveliest hue,  Allured the gazer's eye.

Believe not those who
The upward path is smooth,
Lest thou shouldst stumble in the way,
And faint before the truth.

'O cast away your sorrow; —A while, at least, be gay!
If grief must come tomorrow,
At least, be glad today! 'How can you still be
When smiles are everywhere?

Weep not too much, my darling;
Sigh not too oft for me;
Say not the face of
Has lost its charm for thee.